


In the doorway - standing still

by UniversesVisiting



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Character Study, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversesVisiting/pseuds/UniversesVisiting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only once, at the very beginning of their friendship, does Dot think about leaving Miss Phryne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the doorway - standing still

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is so short it doesn't even deserve to be called a story. And it isn't. Not really. More of a 'missing scene' centred on Dot between the time Jack found Phryne in the Turkish bath and Phryne waking up in bed the next morning.  
> I tried to get a handle on Dot's character and I kind of like how it turned out.  
> As always, thanks for reading! Have fun :)

Only once, at the very beginning of their friendship, does Dot think about leaving Miss Phryne.

The night Miss Phryne comes back to the hotel, her hair matted with sweat, her clothes (not the ones she had left with) plastered to her body and as giddy as a drunk, Dot surprises herself with her own endurance.

In those few moments after she had opened the door, she feels as calm and collected as if she has never done anything else in her life other than helping Miss Phryne with her hare-brained schemes.

She helps Miss Phryne out of her clothes, runs a lukewarm bath for her and calls down to the reception for an entire pot of tea and a soup. Only when Miss Phryne has eaten half of her bowl and drunken the pot and another glass of water does Dot relent. 

Once Miss Fisher has closed her door behind herself and is sleeping inside her bedroom Dot’s legs begin to wobble and she sits down heavily on the couch. The tension, she thinks as she finally sinks back into the cushions and let’s herself have a good cry, is the worst about the situation. Not knowing whether or not Miss Phryne would come back, not knowing what would happen if she didn’t come back. 

Wiping her eyes with the edge of her dress Dot breathes through her nose and thinks about leaving. She thinks about living like this, in the wake of the storm that is Phryne Fisher. She thinks about evenings spend worrying and days spend running from or after criminals and she thinks about what her parents, her siblings, her priest will say if one of Miss Fisher’s plans will inevitable go pear-shaped. 

Worrying, Dot has long since understood, is something she is very good at, especially when there is no one who will snap her out of it. 

But Dot also thinks of Miss Phryne’s excited gestures, her face flushed from more than the too long stay inside a steam-bath, as she talks about how she had caught the criminals (“With a bit of help. Those police officers aren’t useless after all, Dot. Who would have thought!”). And she thinks about the way Miss Phryne had smiled at her when the police had come for Dot, as if she believed her. 

‘ _I know a clever woman who might help_ ’. 

She had offered help to Dot without knowing her, without having an obligation to do so. Not even once had it crossed her mind that Dot could have killed Mr. Andrews. 

Dot looks around from her perch on the couch and shakes her head. 

“Madness”, she whispers to herself. 

What would she have done, she wonders, if five days ago someone had told her that she would be residing in the Winsor. With a new job and a new employer that is not only kind and generous but also runs off in the middle of the night to get up to scandalous and dangerous affairs that make Dot’s hair stand on end? An employer that has offered Dot her first name as if it isn’t unheard of, for a lady of her standing, to be on personal terms with the staff and has an entire library full of books about crimes and mysteries. An employer that has kissed her on the forehead but wants her to use the telephone. An employer that is full of praise and speaks to her like a friend instead of a maid but has also led Dot into the most terrifying situation she has ever been in in her life, alone with a rapist and quack doctor and certain that he would never see the light of day again. 

Dot has never counted bravery among her virtues. She does her best to be good and be kind and hardworking and all the things that her mother and her priest value in young women. But being courageous is not something she has prided herself on being. 

And still. 

Dot stretches out her dress across her knees and picks at the lace as she thinks back to the day before yesterday. How she had known that someone needed to do something against Butcher George because otherwise girls like Alice would keep on being mutilated by him. How there had been anger and indignation yapping at her heels while she had spoken to Madame Breda, who send girls off to a man that was barely more than a petty thief with a knife and treated their despair as an opportunity to make money. 

Dot never saw herself as brave. 

But during that day, while Dot had been sitting in the cab and she, Miss Fisher, Bert and Cec had planned how to bring the entire abortion ring around Butcher George to the ground, Dot had felt brave. 

Miss Fisher had looked at her and her smile had been so sure, so proud of Dot. As if she never had a doubt that Dot would do what was right. 

It had been humbling, Dot thinks, to have someone believe in her like that. Her heart beats faster as she remembers the vicious satisfaction she had felt when Cec had hit Butcher George in the face. Humbling and utterly, incredibly exhilarating. 

Because afterwards, after the police had come and put Butcher George away, after Cec had gone to see Alice in the hospital to tell her the good news and after Miss Phryne had taken Dot to the Windsor, had called for a cocoa and made her put on her nightdress, Dot had allowed herself to bask in the feeling of a job well done. 

She and Miss Phryne had spoken about the day’s events across two rooms: Dot on the couch, Miss Fisher while putting on new clothes. They had talked and Dot had felt the shaking in her hands subside, had felt the terror leave her stomach. And after that, all that had remained, while she sipped from her cup and listened to Miss Phryne talk about what would happen to the abortionist ring now, was a giddy warmth, an excitement mixed with stomach dropping nerves at the thought of more such adventures in the future. 

It was a thought that had risen unbidden inside her mind. Something that had seemed shameful at first, as she hastily pushed it away from herself. But as she listened to Miss Fisher talk and talk Dot relaxed into the cushions and mulled the idea over while sipping her cocoa. 

Maybe, she mused, it’s not so bad. Maybe being excited about doing something good, dangerous but necessary, was not something bad. 

And when Miss Phryne had left, had asked her to be brave some more, the nausea at the thought of touching the telephone had filled her for barely a second, before she had stopped herself. And thought: ‘Really now, if I can stand against an extortionist and rapist, then I can definitely make a phone call!’ 

And she had. 

In the end, she thinks, it had not been nearly as bad as she had always thought it would be. 

No, Dot has never thought herself brave. 

But maybe. 

She sits up straight and breathes heavily into the still room. 

Maybe she can be. 

She had been brave for Miss Phryne, for Alice, for all the girls Butcher George would never touch. 

Dot pushes herself from the couch and tries not to make a sound as she walks towards Miss Fisher’s bedroom door and opens it. 

Miss Phryne sleeps, her face still mildly flushed from the Turkish baths and looking singularly satisfied with herself, her situation and the world at large. Dot watches her back rise and fall under the covers and the light from the door spill across her arms, stretched out above her. 

And Dot decides, right then and right there, that she will stay. There will be arguments with her parents and her priest later on. She will second guess herself by the time breakfast arrives and she will take several weeks to cement her decision. 

But when she looks back, years later, to the moment she had decided to stay with Miss Phryne for good, this will be the moment Dot looks back on. 

Dot will stay with Miss Fisher, because Miss Fisher has showed her possibilities that no one else had ever bothered to even name for her. Dot will stay, because Miss Phryne had not asked Dot to put herself on the line. Had not pushed her or held her back, hadn’t encouraged her or hindered her. Because she had waited and given Dot the choice. 

Because Miss Fisher had looked at Dot and seen that Dot could be brave. Not only for her, and for Alice and for other girls. But that Dot could be brave for herself, by herself, if she was only given the chance. 

And now, Dot decides, as she closes the door soundlessly behind herself and makes her way towards her own bedroom. Now she finally feels like she is somewhere she can be good and brave and herself. 

Because in the face of Miss Phryne’s storm-like nature Dot feels calmer than she ever has. She feels solid and stable and like a rock in a hurricane. It is an experience that is completely new to her, but she finds that she likes balancing Miss Phryne out. 

She even thinks, as she lies down in her bed and pulls the duvet up around her shoulders, that Miss Fisher might like it too. 

Because it might be true that Dot had only met Miss Fisher three days ago. But even this short time is enough for Dot to know, that she has found someone that makes her happy. 

And if Dot has any say in it, she will help make Miss Phryne happy too.  



End file.
